


Touch

by AliceSloane13



Category: Leia Princess of Alderaan - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Young Love, amileia, spoilers: leia princess of alderaan, these two hurt my soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSloane13/pseuds/AliceSloane13
Summary: Touch.It's something Amilyn has always needed. Something she's never felt the right to ask for. It's a human connection she cannot find in words, a connection she cannot find with many people at all.Still, Amilyn needs touch like others need air. It's emotional sustenance that keeps her from drowning in the abyss of her own thoughts. It's a physical comfort that can stop her racing mind and bring her back down to earth. It's not something she knows for sure (there are no facts to back up this theory of hers, and so far she's still alive) but she's confident that she's right.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> “It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”   
> ― John Joseph Powell, The Secret of Staying in Love
> 
> **I've never read this, but the quote fit
> 
> ****SPOILERS for the book "Leia, Princess of Alderaan"****

The first time Leia realizes that Amilyn starts to get a little overwhelmed without affection, they’re seventeen. 

It had been a year since Kier's death. An anniversary--a remembrance--that Leia wishes she could forget. 

She's not expecting Amilyn to show up, but it makes perfect sense in a way that only Amilyn can manage. Leia may have lost a piece of her heart, but Amilyn lost a part of her innocence. 

Leia hates herself for that. While Amilyn promises that it only made her stronger--prepared her for things to come, Leia wonders what her friend's life would have been like without her. 

A few weeks ago, you made me realize that intention alone isn’t sufficient. Goodness is proved through action rather than ideas. Since then I’ve been thinking about what that means in the greatest sense, and--and I knew that meant standing against the Emperor. I’m just really relieved I don’t have to do it on my own.

She's glad that Amilyn feels less alone, wants to tell her that she already is good, but she knows by now that it would be a waste of breath. Amilyn has found a cause to fight for, and she isn’t likely to give that up. However, Amilyn can be reckless--fast on her feet without always thinking things through. She’s seen the pain in Amilyn’s eyes, the tears on her cheeks, while witnessing suffering. Dedication to protecting others has more than once been a higher priority than keeping herself safe, and that terrifies Leia. 

It's been weeks since they've spoken. Or has it been months? Either way, it's been too long, and Leia knows that the blame rests on her shoulders. Amilyn makes sure to check in with her regularly--makes sure that Leia isn't working herself into an early grave. 

She's the break between meetings and plans that Leia has somehow made herself responsible for. She has earned enough respect to be taken seriously by those around her in the rebellion and is well on her way to being an essential member of politics. She's not a very good friend though--and she vows she will do better. 

Hidden behind knowing glances and words that float above other’s heads Leia has begun to understand her in a way that fills her with pride. Cracking Amilyn's code makes her feel like she's given something back to someone who was there for her when she needed a friend. Leia knows her life would be drab without Amilyn. 

Between the informal military that she is now a part of and the Senate there is little room for color in her life. Amilyn gives her that--and not just by means of her ever-changing hair color or formerly garish clothes. It's in the way she sees the world. In the hope-filled way that she reminds Leia of what they're fighting for. 

"You're here," Leia greets, hating the way her voice wavers. Her words are barely more than a whisper, but the vulnerability makes her feel like she's shouting. Her heart is trapped in her throat at the importance of this moment, and she can’t find the right words to explain it. 

Amilyn cocks her head and smiles in understanding. "I'm here." There’s a weight to her words--a knowing intention 

The words echo between them, reassuring Leia. She doesn’t need to explain. It's something Leia didn't realize she needed, but Amilyn did. Leia recognizes, instantly, how much it means to her. 

*

After an afternoon of nearly silent companionship, they spend the evening talking and crying. Leia hadn't expected to break down the way she had, but it hurts. Remembering that day, she knows that it was a turning point in her life. A before and after. 

She thought her Day of Demand would be that bookmark, but that was such a young, idealistic, naive assumption. Kier's death brought reality. It brought pain. It brought death. She had not been prepared for that no matter how much she thought she understood what was at risk. 

Amilyn has nothing to sleep in--because of course, she doesn't. She invites herself over for the weekend but doesn’t bother to pack. She offers Leia some excuse about knowing that Leia wouldn’t mind if she were physically unprepared. She’s right. Leia doesn’t give a shit about details. She’s just happy to have Amilyn there. 

Leia finds her an oversized shirt of hers and Amilyn holds it to her face and smells it with a wide grin. Had it been anyone else it would be creepy, but it makes Leia smile. Amilyn is her weirdo, and she respects that. 

"Thank you," Amilyn says with such genuine sincerity that Leia forgets how odd the moment is. She just rolls her eyes and begins to unbraid her hair. They change wordlessly, preparing for the conversation they know is coming. 

The girls sit next to each other on Leia's bed, drawing closer and closer until they’re a tangled mass of tears and limbs. With every heartbreaking word and thought, the physical comfort is the closest thing they have to relief. It’s all they can do. Heal each other. Protect each other. Love. It may not always be enough, but for now, it is what helps them survive. 

Emotionally and physically exhausted, silence and a sleepy haze take over the room. "You should sleep," Amilyn says, brushing hair out of Leia's face. "Tomorrow we'll do something happy," she promises. "Something to celebrate life. Appreciate his sacrifice." 

Leia nods numbly. She lets Amilyn guide her beneath the covers and wonders if she would have been able to face this night alone if Amilyn hadn't shown up. Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, she recognizes them as the needless worry that they are. Amilyn did show up, and she isn’t alone. 

For her part, Amilyn stays lost in her thoughts. She has done her duty as a friend. She’s listened to Leia’s pain and grief, held her when appropriate, and cried along with her in commiseration. She’s always been touched by others pain, but with Leia, she sometimes feels lost in it. That frightens her. Leia sets her off balance, and Amilyn doesn’t know how to ask what to do. Leia would know. 

"You give me hope," Leia admits to her after Amilyn has turned the light off and is settling beside her. "With you here... I know this day won't last. I know tomorrow will be better." She pauses, unsure what else to say. 

She isn't expecting Amilyn to lean over and kiss her cheek. She also isn't expecting the way that Amilyn slowly works her way around the bed until her back is to Leia, moving as though she though Leia might not notice the change. "You okay?" she asks, worrying that she somehow offended or upset her. 

"Of course," Amilyn murmurs. “It’s nice to hear, but I know that you will never need help with that. Hope is just part of who you are. Thank you for letting me be a part of that though.” She tries to keep her words calm and serene, but she knows she isn’t fooling either of them. 

There's a pitch in her voice that doesn't sit well with Leia. She lies there awake mulling over the words--letting them marinate. Something is wrong. It isn't just the words, or that Amilyn's back is to her. It's in the stillness. Amilyn is completely silent--completely still. She's too silent to be asleep, her breath hasn't fallen into a deep rhythm, and her body remains tense. Leia can feel it. It's as though she's barely breathing at all--forcing.... something. 

No. 

Not forcing. Amilyn is hiding something. Leia's brow furrows in confusion, and she worries at her lip. Rolling onto her side to face Amilyn, she tries to untangle the puzzle next to her. They had spent all night opening up about the pain and consequences of war. Surely Amilyn wasn't hiding her emotions now. Leia couldn't fathom what had affected her so much that she was shutting Leia out. "Amilyn," she says, not meaning her voice to sound as worried as it does. 

There's no response for nearly three minutes. Leia almost gives up, but then Amilyn is rolling over to face her. Even her movements feel heavy and strained. Her cheeks are glistening with tears in the moonlight and Leia is struck by how beautiful she is--even with the tears. It's only a testament to her friend's big heart and empathy for others. "You're hurting," Leia says, but it comes out as more of a question. 

Amilyn sighs. She doesn't have the right words for this. She doesn't know how to tell Leia what is wrong or what she needs. Despite her instincts (she knows that once she admits to anything, Leia won't let it go) she nods. "I am," she whispers, so quietly that it's no more than a breath of truth. 

This evening had been about comforting Leia, about being a good friend, about being there for the girl whose heart was still a little bit cracked--taped together by sheer will and determination. Leia would not be broken. She didn’t need Amilyn in the same way that she needed her. Leia had lost so much, and Amilyn had gained a friendship that she cherished. Leia’s presence in her life was a gift. She felt selfish for being upset when she hadn't lost anything (Kier was a friend, but only barely. They were strangers except through Leia's tie to them.). 

"What can I do?" Leia asks, desperate for some direction. She reaches out--tries to understand. Amilyn is the one who is good at sensing what she needs. Leia doesn't know how she does it, but it's her turn. She closes her eyes and feels... empty. It leaves a painfully empty feeling in her chest that she doesn’t know what to do with it. “Amilyn,” she whimpers, needing some sort of clue. 

Amilyn inches forward just a smidge, careful not to invade Leia's space too deeply. She’s always mindful of the space between them. If she wasn’t, she’d never not be touching her. Leia has quickly become the most important thing in her life, and she’s scared that if she isn’t careful, she will hold on too tightly and lose her. 

It's enough. Something clicks and Leia understands. "Come here." She guides Amilyn into her arms and wraps her tightly in all the comfort she can muster into one simple gesture. Amilyn is shaking, but Leia holds on tighter. "I’ve got you," Leia promises, kissing her friends forehead. Lying next to each other like this, she briefly has a height advantage. She feels Amilyn's hands tangle in her shirt, clutching at the fabric as though she's afraid Leia might disappear. 

In a moment of spontaneity, Leia rolls onto her back, pulling Amilyn with her until she has her friend settled on her chest. One hand is tangled in her hair, holding her steady, and the other is rubbing soothing circles on her back. She smiles when she feels Amilyn roll into her, toss a leg over her own, and hug against her. 

Touch. 

The word booms in her mind and everything slides into place. Where Leia thrives on logic and reason, Amilyn is guided by feelings and emotions. She thinks about the times when Amilyn manages to slow her down enough that she can breathe and wonders if this is enough to push the repercussive waves of overwhelming empathy off her friend’s shoulder and away from her heart. 

Amilyn turns her face against Leia and buries herself deeper into the comfort. This is what she needed. The weight of Leia’s arm around her grounds her. The fingers in her hair ease the tension away from her neck and shoulders. She closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of the moment. Amilyn tries to hold herself together but then realizes that Leia is offering her a safe place to break. 

Sliding a hand to Amilyn’s hip, she squeezes encouragingly. There are a few long moments of tears, and choked apologies before Amilyn calms down. The nervous tension in her body dissipates, and Leia feels the weight of the other girl slump against her. 

It's a basic comfort that Leia realizes she's taken for granted. She had always been affectionate with her parents. It was never something that she felt a particular need for. It was nice and of course looking at it directly she recognizes the importance of that connection, but she'd never thought about it before. She hums gently, a lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child, and wonders who else hugs her friend. "Amilyn?" she asks curiously. 

"Hmm?" She’s tapping a finger against Leia’s breastbone that matches the cadence of the heartbeat she’s listening too. The release of emotions has left her feeling weary. She’s matching her breaths to Leia as that alone can keep her close. In this moment they are one. 

There's sleep coating Amilyn’s response, and Leia wonders if she should ask what she had planned. It's important to her though, and she fears that in the light of day she might not have the courage to ask. "What are your parents like?" 

Amilyn is silent for a moment, and Leia wonders if she's fallen asleep, or pretending to sleep. There’s still a gentle tapping against her chest. She envelopes Amilyn’s hand in her own, tangling their fingers together. 

Craning her head back, Amilyn looks up at Leia, studies her. Then without further information, she knowingly answers the question Leia didn't ask. "They're kind, and they try to be interested, but they're not warm people. We're not close." 

“I’m sorry,” Leia says, nodding in understanding. 

Amilyn shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s part of who I’ve become, and for that I am grateful. I don’t connect well with people. You know that. Their distance prepared me for who I am.” She squeezes Leia’s fingers with firm intent, releasing her friend from any responsibility she may feel. 

Amilyn doesn’t want pity or guilt, and she certainly doesn’t want Leia to think she owes her something. The first two she knows Leia would never offer, but the third? “There’s not always a place for me. I don’t always fit. Sometimes I have to either accept that or make my own.” There’s a finality to her words. There is nothing else she wants to say on the matter. 

Leia nods in understanding. “You fit with me,” she promises. It’s not enough, but she’s never been good with words. Thinking about what Amilyn just confessed Leia tries to understand what she needs most. Amilyn is not someone who can be appeased by nice words or kind thoughts. There needs to be truth. Anything less would be an insult. "Amilyn?” 

Amilyn wonders if she’s said too much. She squeezes Leia’s hand, gesturing for her to keep going. If she speaks, she’s afraid she’ll start crying again. Leia’s shirt is already damp with her tears, and she wonders if she should offer to get her a clean shirt. 

“You’re my best friend. Not just because of what you’ve done for me. I want you in my life. I love who you are, and I think you’re perfect. You always have a place with me. Always." She kisses Amilyn's forehead again and hugs her close. She thinks she hears Amilyn whisper home, but she isn't positive. 

It’s enough to break Amilyn’s heart and heal it all in one breath. She wants to think it throw, roll it around in her mind until she can analyze it in all ways possible, but somehow that feels like doubt. Leia wouldn’t lie to her. So she sighs into the embrace and melts against Leia, finally accepting what she’d been craving. Comfort. Touch. Love. 

With a smile on her face, Leia hugs her closer and realizes how much she likes having Amilyn in her arms. Amilyn loves so deeply that Leia is starting to understand. Amilyn needs a recharge. She needs to let go of the pain she tries to take from others and allow herself to be cared for. Leia enjoys it in a way that she doesn't understand yet. Not the way she will in the years to come. For now, it feels cathartic in a way that she doesn't understand. Surprising herself, she doesn't care to understand either. This moment is enough. They are enough.


End file.
